


Smashing Reputation

by regentzilla



Category: Metroid Series, Punch-Out!! (Video Games), Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regentzilla/pseuds/regentzilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smash wasn't unpleasant, the fights were ridiculously exciting and Mac was learning so, <i>so</i> much— but it would have been cool to make a few friends between brawls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smashing Reputation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [areyougame](http://areyougame.dreamwidth.org/) community! The prompt was "Super Smash Bros. 3DS, Little Mac: Reputation – Everybody is out to get him, and he has not the foggiest idea why."

The WVBA had always been a little lenient when it came to things like rules and regulations, but the Super Smash Brothers Invitational was on an entirely different level of lawlessness. Mac had never had to think about things like getting shot or electrocuted by one of seven opponents during a fight before. There were talking animals from space and robots and princesses and flying pink puffballs— all plural, there were more than one of all these things, unbelievably—

It was absolutely the coolest thing Mac had ever done in his entire life.

The thing was— it wasn't a big thing, he felt kinda stupid for feeling weird about it— everyone else seemed to be pals already. They all had friends from back home, or weren't at Smash for the first time. Even Pac-Man had a big beepy reunion with Game & Watch.

Most importantly, even though everyone was nice enough and said hi to him when they bumped into each other and everything, Mac's fighting schedule had been absolutely booked solid since his first day on the circuit. And really, there weren't many things that said more about your feelings towards someone than lining up to beat the snot out of them. He was reminded of his match with Aran Ryan and the hundreds of phone calls, and eventually letters when Doc changed his number, demanding a rematch in such colourful language it was hard to sort out the actual meaning from the vulgarities. Because really, this felt a lot like that, just without the spitting and frothing.

Smash wasn't unpleasant, the fights were ridiculously exciting and he was learning so, _so_ much— but it would have been cool to make a few friends between brawls.

Mac usually hung out at the gym after hours, when everyone else was out relaxing. The entire Smash facility was pretty ridiculous, honestly, it was completely modern and clean and they seemed to have everything imaginable packed into one building. He felt a little bad sweating all over such a swanky joint so he mostly stuck to the training bags.

Even before he opened the door on this particular day, the dull smack of skin and tape on vinyl let him know that for once he wouldn't be training alone. Not like he had any other plans, though, so he took a deep breath and puffed his chest out and stepped inside.

Just as he suspected, there was someone already at the training bag— a lady. She was ridiculously tall, six feet at least, sporting corded muscles that cut thick lines along her body and a silky blonde ponytail that swished cutely with every strike of fists or feet against the bag. Her punches were vicious, powerful but without much finesse. She probably didn't have any actual experience with martial arts or boxing or anything like that beyond using it as a means to stay in shape.

Mac didn't realize he was staring until she stopped the swinging bag with both hands and turned to face him, eyebrows drawn and breath heavy from the exertion.

"S-Sorry! I, uh... wasn't really expecting anyone else to be here! I'm usually alone, y'know?" Mac started to fidget with the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder when her expression remained unchanged. "D-do you mind if I, uh, join you? I'm Mac, by the way. Have we had a match yet?"

The lady cracked a bit of a lopsided smile at that, and she paced over to where a towel and a bottle of water lay on the floor. "Samus Aran," she said, bluntly.

"Oh. Oh!" They had fought, several times— Mac just hadn't seen her underneath the bulky orange-and-green mechanical armour. "I didn't recognize you!"

“Not going out on the town with the others?”

It took a moment for Mac to catch up with the change in subject. The training bag blinked at him— of all the weird things going on at Smash that was probably the one that he'd never get used to. He shrugged a little and adjusted the tape on his wrists.

Samus sat down heavily on a bench and took a swig of water, watching Mac pull his own water bottle and a jump rope out of his bag. “Not a people person?”

Mac had to consider that. He liked people, sure. There was absolutely nothing more thrilling than being in front of a crowd. The only person he really hung around with was Doc Louis, though, and occasionally Glass Joe. The rest of the WVBA seemed to hold some nasty grudges, and training didn't leave him much time to make friends outside of the circuit.

“Dunno.” He stretched quickly, just enough to get his joints warmed up, then took up an easy pace with the rope that would let him keep talking. “I don't get out much, and I dunno if anyone would want me tagging along.” He paused. “You should stretch after a bag workout, y'know? Makes it hurt less the morning after.”

Samus smiled again. It was sincere and warm but wrinkled her face in a way that suggested she didn't do it too often. She stood, towering over Mac once again, and pulled one arm across her chest with the other. “Why wouldn't they want you to join them?”

She asked a lot of questions, Mac noticed. “Wouldn't it be kinda weird? They're all pals already, and I've never really been friends with someone I've been in the ring with.” Mostly because his opponents before Smash all had attitude problems and about 20 years on him, but the point stood.

Samus shook her arms out and as Mac picked up the speed, picking his knees up and turning the rope into more of a blur, she matched his pace, jogging on the spot. “They all like you, though.”

“Seriously? I haven't stopped fighting since I got here.” He sped up slightly only to have Samus once again match him, her ponytail snapping around behind her with each movement. “If they all like me why do they all wanna beat the snot outta me?”

“Your reputation precedes you,” Samus said, eyes locked with Mac's and smouldering with intensity. Every move he made she mirrored and every time she tried to take over the pace he tore ahead, until their shoes were a cacophony of squeaks against the mats.

Mac broke first, landing squarely on his rope and stumbling to a breathless halt. “My... reputation?” He gasped, leaning forward, hands braced on his knees.

Samus eased out of the jog but still wilted as soon as she stopped, clamoring once again for a drink. “You're a champion, and the only boxer here,” she gasped. “Everyone wants a piece of the kid who has more belts than he's had birthdays.”

Mac choked out a laugh— he definitely hadn't expected Samus to be the joke-cracking type.

“The point is, Smash is a hobby for the rest of us. Nobody would get to fight someone like you outside of the tournament.” She said that like most of the rest of them didn't fight space aliens and sentient mushrooms on a regular basis. “It isn't about liking you or not, it's about the experience.”

Mac flopped backwards onto the floor mat, staring at the high ceiling as he caught his breath. “You think so?”

“I'm positive. I haven't talked this much or worked out this late in years.”

That took a moment to sink in, and when it did Mac huffed out a laugh and covered his face with his hands.

“You should go before you get too sweaty.”

Mac rolled onto his stomach, pushed up and stood, and found Samus stretching her calves, leaning hard against her bent knee. Despite the weight and bulk of her ropy muscles she was flexible. Mac was fast, but he was nowhere near as bendy as that— he found himself wondering what exactly she did for a living that turned her into such a powerhouse.

“Are you going to come too?”

She simply shook her head. “I'm definitely not a people person. Besides, I'd have to change.”

Mac nodded, coiling his jump rope back up and slinging it into his bag. “Thanks,” he said, starting to unwrap the bandages on his hands. Samus didn't respond until he was halfway to the door.

“Mac.”

He turned, startled.

“Thank _you._ For the stretching advice.”

He grinned widely. “Oh!” he blurted, the thought escaping his mouth in the same second it occurred to him, “you said you didn't usually work out at night. Are you usually here in the mornings?”

“Yes, most days. Unless I have a match.”

“See you tomorrow, then?”

Samus paused, expression drawn into surprise, then smiled enough to crinkle her eyes almost closed and nodded.


End file.
